Narcisse Virgilio Díaz

“biography-text of Diaz in 'The Barbizon painters; being the story of the men of thirty', by Arthur Hoeber, 1915”

“biography-text of Diaz in 'The painters of Barbizon : Millet, Rousseau, Diaz', by John, W. Mollett, 1890”

“a selection paintings by Diaz, on Wikiart”

“picture of 'The Forest of Fontainebleau'”

“The pictures of Diaz are not landscapes, for the land is wanting; they are 'tree-scapes', and their poetry lies in the sunbeams which dance, playing around them. 'Have you seen my last [tree-] stem?' he would inquire of the visitors to his studio.”

“The coming on of winter was always dangerous to him. In 1876, Diaz felt himself attacked by an affection of the chest which rendered all work impossible. He went to Mentone, where for an instant he seemed to revive with a new existence. It was there that he executed his last pictures. Death took him by surprise, still at his work. It was impossible to overcome this character, still full of energy, during the final sickness, unless by taking the brush from his hands and shattering it.”

“He [Diaz] was one of those who gave celebrity to the village of Barbizon, in the forest of Fontainebleau; he had lived there with Theodore Rousseau and Millet; with Rousseau especially, whom he considered the 'master'; in his private collection he [Diaz] had two enchanting little landscapes of his; and when you talked to Diaz of his own art, he would carry you off to the works of his great acquaintance, saying: 'Here are the bon-bons [the little landscapes of Rousseau]'.”

“The sun has lost one of its most beautiful rays.”

“Your women bathing come from the cow house.”

“You paint stinging-nettles, and I prefer roses.”

“Patience ! They will come to it gradually! Rousseau has sold a landscape for five hundred francs; for my part, I have sold a view of Fontainebleau for seventy-five francs. And I am commissioned to ask you for companion sketches to your drawings. And this time, instead of twenty francs, they are to pay you twenty-five! (Millet replied resignedly: 'If I could only sell two drawings a week at that price all would go right!'”

“At last, here is a new man [ Millet ], who has the knowledge which I would like to have, and movement, color, expression, too, - here is a painter!”

“What does it matter! [poverty], One of these days I shall have carriages and a golden crutch. My brush will win them for me.”